wobbling ovals of light // there will be dawn and
dawn again. a million seasons where the blossoms bloom & burst
& flutter to the uncut grass // just as today
the little magpie hops across the lawn, dips in and out
of bushes, plucking twigs to build a home all of its own. And yes, I
know this is an optimistic view / on Friday afternoon we’re sitting on
the park bench in the breezy sunshine looking out
across the verdant woods, the little prickled flecks of blue
as the forget-me nots & crops of speedwell flicker into view -
Jen says oh, well,
the world will burn. she says, there won’t
be any generations after this // but I hold tight to that reflexive urge
to hope that I will hold you & you’ll know that you are loved
_____________
Cecily Fasham is a novice poet & PhD student at the University of Cambridge, studying sonnets by and for the modern woman. Her poems have won the Quiller-Couch & T.R. Henn Prizes, and have been published in Spam, Wet Grain, & DAISYWORLD. Like everyone, she wishes that she wrote more.
Comments